


The Next Step

by LittleThingsAreInfinitelyMoreImportant



Series: My Fanfic 100 Series [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleThingsAreInfinitelyMoreImportant/pseuds/LittleThingsAreInfinitelyMoreImportant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a few months since their first romantic encounter and it’s been a regular occurrence ever since. After waking John in the middle of his nightmare, Sherlock decides that he’s ready for the last and most final level of intimacy in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Step

**Author's Note:**

> Using the prompt 002 - Middles from the FanFic 100 LJ challenge.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Please feel free to check out my Tumblr [here](http://comeatonce-ifconvenient.tumblr.com/). I am more than happy to accept any prompts and/or challenges.
> 
> None of these characters belong to me. They are the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the playthings of Their Royal Malevolence's Moffat and Gatiss. I am just borrowing them.

Sherlock lay quietly in the darkness, breathing slowly. Although he was in bed and supposed to be sleeping, he lay arrow straight on his back with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, almost as if he was waiting for something as he squeezed the little black squash ball in his hand.

He tilted his head on the pillow to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

**02:45am**

Sighing, he rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling again. John’s insistence on Sherlock sleeping was dull. All he did was lie there until morning anyway. He pushed the covers back and got up, going over to the window and looking out onto the dimly lit street. He sighed again.

_Dull_

Even London could be dull at this time of the morning. Especially on a Sunday morning.

He pulled on his dressing gown and padded down the corridor to the sitting room. He sat at his desk and pulled John’s laptop towards him. Exercising his mind, he started trying to break the password. He got three tries, but only needed two. An improvement. Normally it only took him one. John was starting to learn.

He began to tap away, loading up John’s blog and beginning to read it. The grammar was awful, the spelling shocking…and Sherlock didn’t come across nearly as intelligently as he thought he should. John hardly seemed to appreciate how brilliant his mind was when he was working...heck it was brilliant when he _wasn’t_ working

Closing the laptop and pushing it away, he glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece.

**03:27am**

_Bored_

Getting up, he wandered vaguely into the kitchen, thinking that he would maybe start another one of his experiments, one that didn’t involve so much nitro-glycerine this time. John had been furious the last time he’d been woken up in the middle of the night by an explosion…

A sound made him stop. It was a sound almost like a muffled shout and it came from upstairs…John’s room!

Turning on his heel he headed upstairs towards John’s room. As he climbed the stairs he heard it again, louder this time…a definite scream.

He reached the top of the stairs and gently pushed open the door of John’s room. John was lying in the middle of his bed. The covers had been kicked away and were tangled in his feet. His head was rolling from side to side and his body was wet with sweat, his white vest and boxers sticking to his skin. His gorgeous face was screwed up, clearly he was in the grip of a nightmare.

Sherlock crossed the room, hating to see his John looking so distressed.

His John.

Only for a few months. And so far they had only exchanged words…looks…kisses…the odd touch…they’d never had sex and entering the doctor’s bedroom already had Sherlock’s heart hammering at the unfamiliar intimacy of the situation.

Sherlock sat down on the doctor’s bed and placed one pale, long fingered hand on his shoulder.

“John”

He rocked John’s shoulder gently as he whispered his name. John didn’t wake.

“John!”

Raising his voice, Sherlock shook him again harder.

“John! WAKE UP!”

~

_Gunfire rattled around him as he jumped out of the helicopter. Ducking slightly, he ran towards a group of men heading towards him, supporting a soldier between them._

_“What happened?” yelled John, running up to meet them._

_“Bullet wounds to both legs, one piercing the thigh captain” said the soldiers CO._

_“Alright, get him to the helicopter, I need to get him out of here!”_

_In an ungainly fashion he took over from one of the soldiers and supported his patient as they made their way slowly towards the waiting helicopter. There was a whistling sound from above. Far too late, John realised what it was._

_“Hit the deck!” he bellowed, diving to the floor and covering the injured soldiers body with his own as the ground exploded around him. Another whistle. Another explosion. It seemed to go on forever. The sound of gunfire was dull. There was a ringing sound in John’s ears. Time slowed down._

_Dazed, he struggled back up._

_“Captain! Stay down!” yelled the Corporal on his right. He shook his head. He needed to get his patient out of here._

_A dull thud hit his shoulder, forcing him to stagger backwards. Then came the pain, red hot, blazing and almost intolerable. He sank to his knees as, to his right, the ground exploded again, showering him in dirt and stone._

_“Captain!!”_

_The corporal’s face was right in front of his, although his voice sounded far away._

_“Captain, stay with me! We’ll get you out of here…CAPTAIN…”_

_“John?”_

_“Captain…”_

_“John…John, WAKE UP!”_

~

John sat bolt upright with a gasp, his heart hammering. He swung his legs out of the bed and desperately tried to get his breath back. His ears were still ringing, his extremities had gone numb and he was covered in cold sweat.

“Relax John! I’m here…just relax…you’re having a panic attack” said a soothingly deep voice behind him. A hand was running up and down his back, between his shoulder blades. He looked over his shoulder and saw icy blue staring back. Even in the dark room, Sherlock’s eyes were vivid.

Sherlock looked back at John, his hand still resting on his back. This was a new kind of intimate for the detective. Sure they’d kissed…gone further in fact. but the intimacy of being in the same bedroom… and John looking so vulnerable…Sherlock suddenly went light headed at the possibilities.

_Not now brain_

Sherlock shook his head and focused back on the doctor. John was still shaking.

“Relax” he breathed again, his soothingly baritone voice gentle. He raised his other hand and began to gently massage John’s tense shoulders, working the muscles until he felt John relax.

Slowly, the feeling returned to John’s toes and fingers. Pins and needles attacked his lips as the blood started to flow again and he felt lightheaded. Although now it could have been from Sherlock’s presence rather than the last vestiges of his nightmare still gripping him. He sank back into Sherlock’s touch and sighed.

“Better?” rumbled the voice John loved so much. He nodded slowly.

“Better…sorry” whispered John, looking down at the bed sheet.

“Apologising makes no sense John. REM sleep is something that the human race has been trying to control forever. And we still haven’t managed it. I highly doubt you of all people can control what you dream” said Sherlock, in his infuriatingly arrogant way. Even in his still-half-asleep state John managed to roll his eyes.

John swung his legs back onto the bed and looked at Sherlock weakly.

“Me, of all people?” he repeated.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

“Oh, don’t get offended John, you know that to me the expression ‘of all people’ means the rest of the entire human race” said Sherlock, only half joking. John shook his head in disbelief but couldn’t help smiling.

“You alright now?” asked Sherlock, peering at John’s half-darkened face. John didn’t say anything. He just shrugged. Sherlock could tell that he was thinking about maybe getting up and doing something instead of going back to sleep.

“Would you…like me to stay here with you?” he said, deeply. John looked at him and then looked away quickly.

“You don’t have to do that” said John, not wanting to make his friend…partner…lover…boyfriend?...

“I know I don’t have to. I’m asking you if you would like me to” said Sherlock. John shrugged, and then looked up to meet Sherlock’s eyes.

“That would be good” he said.

For a moment the two just stared at each other. Then, making the first move, John swept his legs back up onto the bed and under the covers, resting his head back on the pillow. Gingerly, Sherlock lifted the covers on the other side of the bed and folded his long form underneath them. Slowly, he opened his arms and looked expectantly at John, who hastily shuffled across the bed and rested his head on Sherlock’s chest as the detectives pale arms surrounded his shoulders.

For a few minutes they lay in silence, breathing gently. Sherlock’s every nerve ending was on fire. This was the most intimate he had ever been with a human being before, even after exploring various amorous activities with the man now lying in his arms. His heart was thudding and he knew John could feel it. He hated his body for giving him away so easily.

“It’s ok, Sherlock” whispered John, brushing his fingers lightly up the smooth, hard muscle of the detective’s stomach. Sherlock sucked in a breath at the flutter it sent down his spine.

John raised his head to look at his consulting detective in the eye. He leaned forward and gently, ever so gently, pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock made a small, breathy almost-moan and deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around John’s shoulders, his tongue invading the smaller man’s mouth.

John pushed himself up onto one elbow, raising his head to meet Sherlock’s urgent kisses. He didn’t want to frighten the detective, knowing that when it came to intimacy and closeness Sherlock knew next to nothing, but he couldn’t help himself from stroking his hands up and down the sides of Sherlock’s stomach, feeling the muscles ripple and tremble beneath his fingers. Sherlock gasped again and gripped John’s shoulders a little tighter.

John rolled in Sherlock’s arms until he was lying on top of the taller man, pushing him down into the mattress. Sherlock broke the kiss and looked into John’s eyes. He looked apprehensive.

“Are you ok?” asked John, gently. Sherlock nodded uncertainly.

“It’s ok” John whispered again. He shuddered as Sherlock ran his hands up and down his back lightly and bent to kiss the detective again. Sherlock dropped his head back onto the pillow, granting John access to the neck the doctor loved so much.

John attached his lips to the spot he knew was just over Sherlock’s carotid artery. That sensitive pulse point that would carry the sensation all around Sherlock’s body. Predictably, Sherlock shivered and moaned softly.

John darted his tongue out, tasting the pale flesh of the detective, nipping gently with his teeth in a way that John knew would leave a mark that meant Sherlock would have to wear that blue scarf for at least a week. Judging by the sounds that were now pouring out of Sherlock’s mouth, the detective didn’t mind one bit.

John snaked his tongue further down onto Sherlock’s collar bone, laving it over the thin bones of Sherlock’s clavicle He felt Sherlock’s hips thrust up slightly, smiling onto the skin he was worshipping as he felt Sherlock’s now hard cock against his hip.

Sherlock’s hand ran down John’s spine, lightly caressing every vertebrae gently. He slipped his hands onto John’s ass and squeezed lustfully. John’s eyes flew open at the unexpected forwardness of the man underneath him and wriggled his hand down between them, palming Sherlock’s cock and squeezing hard, drawing a hiss of pleasure from the detective.

John wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s erection and began to pump slowly. Running his fist all the way up to the tip, palming the end and then sliding back down. Sherlock’s hips bucked desperately, begging John to go faster, grip harder, anything that would get him closer towards the release building up in the pit of his stomach.

John dropped his head to Sherlock’s chest and began to kiss down, dipping his tongue into the detective’s navel as he went. Sherlock made a desperate noise and placed his hand on the top of John’s head, encouraging him in his downward path. John grinned against the skin of the detective’s stomach. Sherlock had never been the most patient of lovers. John loved it.

Finally, torturously slowly, John hooked his fingers into the waistband of Sherlock’s pyjama pants and pulled, stripping the clothing off and onto the floor in one fluid motion. He flicked his tongue out and licked the end of Sherlock’s cock, causing the man to gasp. He slid his lips down over the throbbing erection and hollowed his cheeks, beginning to suck.

Sherlock looked down at John. He loved to watch the doctor suck his cock. The way he disappeared into the soldier’s mouth over and over again, getting faster and faster as John’s tongue attacked from all sides. John worked his mouth furiously, dragging Sherlock closer and closer towards his climax.

“Yes John…Yes…so close” he whispered, fisting his hand into the coarse blonde hair and pulling. John smiled around Sherlock’s cock, dropped his lips all the way to the base and hummed deliciously, sending vibrations down Sherlock’s length and making him cry out in pleasure.

John sat up, pulling a moan of disappointment from his lover’s throat. He flashed him a smile and grabbed the hem of his vest, pulling it up and off quickly. He loved the way Sherlock’s icy eyes drank in every new bit of exposed flesh. It made John feel like the sexiest man alive. He removed his boxers and settled himself back into the cradle of Sherlock’s hips and began to thrust his cock gently against Sherlock’s, driving the detective mad with the sweet-but-not-quite-enough friction.

He captured Sherlock in a blazing kiss as he reached towards the nightstand and withdrew a tube of lube. He’d bought it a few months ago, after it had become clear that the first blowjob on the sofa was not only going to become a regular occurrence, but might also lead to more. Sherlock didn’t miss the movement and broke the kiss. His eyes flicked towards the tube in John’s hand and then back to John, apprehension suddenly written across his face.

“It’s ok Sherlock. We don’t have to use it. I’m not expecting anything. It’s more of a hope” said John, grinning wickedly at the detective.

“After all. It has been a few months now, and I’ve just managed to get you into my bed, I’d like to take full advantage of that situation.”

“But John…I’ve never…you know I’ve never…with anyone…”

“That’s ok Sherlock. I don’t care about your experience…or how ‘good’ you’ll be. I want to feel you. Be the closest to you that any human can get to another being”

Sherlock shivered at the imagery. God he wanted that too. To be as close to John as it was possible to get. Yes please! He kissed John again, wrapping his arms tightly around the doctor’s neck. Taking that as his go ahead, John flipped the cap of the lube and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers.

John shifted to the side so that he was lying next to Sherlock and ran his hand up his thigh to the crack of his ass, searching out the little puckered entrance. He felt Sherlock tense as he found it and pressed his finger tenderly against it, rubbing gently until he felt Sherlock relax. Gently, he eased his finger slowly inside the tight ring of muscle to the knuckle and heard Sherlock hiss above him.

“Ok?” he asked, concerned. Sherlock’s eyes were closed but he didn’t look in any pain, just uncomfortable. The detective nodded and John began to move his finger in and out of Sherlock’s ass and felt the muscles begin to give.

He added a second finger and knew that there would be a definite burn this time. Using his knowledge of anatomy, he angled his fingers upwards, searching for the bundle of nerves he knew was hidden away somewhere there. He knew he had found it when Sherlock moaned loudly and started to push himself down onto John’s fingers. John massaged Sherlock’s prostate gently, scissoring his fingers carefully to encourage the ring of muscle to slacken.

Sherlock was now writhing under him, pressing back against his fingers, moaning and begging, almost incoherently, for more.

“John…please…John I need…” he begged, looking at John with desperation in his eyes. John nodded and withdrew his fingers. Grabbing a condom, he quickly rolled it on and, with another dollop of lube he slicked himself up, moaning at the sensation of his wet hands sliding up his aching erection. He propped himself up on his knees between Sherlock’s legs and pushed the detectives thighs apart so that his knees bent to the sides and placed his cock at Sherlock’s hole.

Sherlock met John’s eyes one last time, nerves fluttering in his stomach. He was nervous that once John had gone through with this then he, Sherlock, would be abandoned, that John’s interest would wane. He knew full well that John wasn’t that type of person at all, he’d been so patient with Sherlock already, but the blazing look of pure heat and love that he got back from John made him sure. He nodded.

John pressed forward, feeling the head of his cock breach Sherlock’s body. He gasped at the heat pressing down on him as he sank all the way in slowly and stopped, allowing Sherlock to adjust to his size. After a few tense minutes, Sherlock rocked his hips up, silently giving John permission to move. John pulled out and thrust back in carefully, setting a steady pace.

“Oh God…Christ Sherlock…so tight!” moaned John, his thrusts quickening as he started to lose control and pound into Sherlock. Sherlock’s hips were thrusting back, meeting John’s thrust for thrust, a little choking cry emitting from him every time John thrust back in.

“Yes John…yes….yesyesyes”

“Christ Sherlock!”

John angled his hips and heard Sherlock positively shout his name as his cock brushed against the detectives prostate over and over again. John felt his orgasm building in his groin and his thrusts became erratic and urgent.

“Sherlock…fuck! So close…so close”

Sherlock ran his hand down his body and grabbed his own achingly neglected cock, pumping hard. It only took a few hard pumps and he was coming. His blood ran white hot through his veins, his vision went and his toes curled as he yelled John’s name breathlessly and spilled himself over his hand and their stomachs.

“Fuck...that is…the single most…sexy thing…I have ever seen…in my entire life” gasped John. He felt Sherlock’s muscles clench tightly around him as he rode out his orgasm and the added pressure was all John needed. Stars burst in his eyes as he came hard into Sherlock’s pliant body thrusting forward and holding himself still until he was finished. He collapsed on top of Sherlock, ignoring the sticky mixture of sweat and cum on their stomachs.

They stayed like that until their breathing returned to normal and then John shifted, allowing his now soft cock to slip out of Sherlock’s body. He stood up and rolled off the condom, throwing it in the bin. He grabbed a towel that was hanging over the back of the armchair in the corner of the room and cleaned them both off before lying back down next to Sherlock and drawing the covers over them. He drew Sherlock to him, wrapping his arms around the pale shoulders and winding a hand into the dark curls.

“Do me a favour and don’t overthink this Sherlock. I know what that brain of yours is like but there’s nothing to overthink. I’m not going anywhere just because we’ve had sex. I’m in love with you and my place is right here by your side” whispered John, cutting Sherlock’s mind off before it could even get started.

Sherlock looked up at the doctor and smiled. Nobody had ever been able to read him like John could. It was rather scary. He snuggled in closer to John’s chest, enjoying his doctors warm and comforting scent, taking full advantage of this rare and unfamiliar moment of closeness where he craved Johns touch. He could get used to this.


End file.
